Twilight of the Elves
by eruinichil
Summary: Sauron has cursed Thranduil and his heirs. Now Legolas feels the call of Sauron. He will find no peace until he goes back to Sauron or end his own life. He and Haldir must find a way to break it before it drives him to insanity. HalLeg later
1. The Last Heir

Disclaimer: Do you actually think Lord of the Rings belongs to me?! You're crazy!  
  
Author's Note: Yay! New fic! This time with lots of slashyness! Yummmm! Figure out the pairings yourself. *grins* Shouldn't be THAT hard.  
  
Twilight of the Elves  
  
The Last Heir  
  
~*~*~During the Last Alliance 2500 years ago~*~*~  
  
"We will no longer aid you in your conquest!" shouted Thranduil mastering his fear.  
  
He tried to look strong as the Dark Lord with his full power walked towards him. "You WHAT?!"  
  
Thranduil took a step back and swallowed hard. He also felt all the fear that his soldiers felt as they stood silently in their ranks behind him. "We-Are-Leaving!" His clear voice rang out purer than any that had been heard in the barren land of Mordor.  
  
Flames leapt from Sauron's blood-red eyes. "Pathetic warrior!" he hissed as he reached the defiant Elven King. "You shall pay for your insolence!"  
  
The Dark Lord drew his sword in one swift motion and made to strike the King. Thranduil whipped out his own sword and blocked a strike. At once, all of his warriors surrounded their King and pointed their bows at Sauron, arrows perfectly notched and ready. Sauron eyed the warriors with his red snake-like eyes. Even at his full power, he could not challenge 10000 armed Elven warriors. Fury flowed through Sauron's veins and he struggled to master his anger. They had dealt a lethal blow. The Elven armies had made up almost one-forth of his army.  
  
Breathing heavily, Sauron reluctantly sheathed his weapon. "This is your mistake Thranduil. Only I can grant you power. Only I can give you what you truly want."  
  
Thranduil glared. "You lie!" he hissed. "You promised me my own kingdom but you took everything." He turned his back to the menacing figure. "I will not slaughter my own kin, Sauron." His eyes scanned the fields westward of them. His far-seeing eyes saw that the Elves and Men were now fighting side- by-side. He knew he should go join them.  
  
"Go then, and find your own death on the fields."  
  
"It is you who will meet your doom," whispered the great king, his back still turned.  
  
Sauron only scoffed and he walked away towards his own tower to get ready for the final war that would cover the entire Middle-Earth in darkness. But before he was out of sight, he pointed his staff at the king and a dark aura encircled the King.  
  
The warriors moved to aid their King and some let fly their arrows. Sauron crackled and a dark bubble appeared. The arrows struck the shield and fell harmlessly to the ground, bent and twisted. Thranduil crumpled to his knees as the spell encircled him. Mocking laughter filled his head.  
  
'Don't think you can walk out on me this easily, Thranduil,' the Dark Lord's voice said in his head. 'This is only the beginning. Your heir will also bear this curse and your house will fall into darkness. You will always come back to me, Thranduil. Always.'  
  
Thranduil forced himself to stand up, with help from his soldiers and forced the voice away. His heart filled with fear for his unborn sons. 'Now is not the time,' he thought as he shook his head.  
  
He tried to clear his head of everything except for the battle to come but something lingered on at the back of his mind. The thought of wanting to go back to his master and serve him stayed with him. The seed of the curse has been planted deep in his mind and will grow over time. It will grow stronger and stronger until he finally surrenders himself to Sauron or end his own life. The West will offer no peace to him now.  
  
Thranduil knew none of this. He only had a feeling that someone was watching him and pulling him towards him. He shook his head to get rid of it as he pulled on his armor. He brushed his pure golden hair out of his face and fashioned them into the traditional warrior's braid. His fair features twisted in worry as his nimble fingers flew with a life of their own. He picked up his helmet and then discarded it. 'Sauron will see the face of the one who defeats him,' he thought grimly.  
  
He walked out of the tent and surveyed his warriors. Discipline was the foundation of his army, so even though they knew they were never going to win, they never despaired. All of them would prefer an honorable death than living in shame or darkness forever more. He thought back to Luthien, his wife back home and if he would ever see her again. She was safe with his unborn son and he vowed that he would protect his family even if it cost him his life.  
  
His white horse was brought to him by one of the foot soldiers and he nodded his thanks. In one fluid movement he mounted. His loud clear voice floated over the plains as he issued battle commands. Within seconds, all his troops were ready. The sound of hooves filled the clear morning air as swords were sharpened and quivers were restocked.  
  
Thranduil observed their grim faces as he rode in front of them. His heart was also heavy but he did not despair. He was fighting for all he loved on Middle-Earth. "Take comfort now," he shouted, "for the Dark is almost upon us! We shall ride to Mt. Doom and make the towers of Barad-dur shake! Know that your life has not been wasted! Fight for those that you love! If we shall fail, there will be no tomorrow!"  
  
With that, he kicked his horse into a gallop and the thundering of hooves upon the plains filled his ears. He rode swift and light towards the dark mountain that filled the sky. He saw the battle had already started. Blood has been shed. Elves, Men and orcs fell on either side. He heard gasps of horror and disgust from his troops behind him. "Now is the hour, when we make our final alliance," he said to those close by.  
  
His mighty sword slid free of its confines with a metallic clang and it shined in the dark of morning. "Ride now!" he cried and his horse reared its white head before racing into the battle.  
  
The thunder of horses was heard and creatures on both sides turned in wonder to see. An Elf with hair as bright as the sun raced into battle followed by a huge army. The Men cheered and their hearts filled with new hope when they saw Thranduil. The armies of Mordor shrank in fear as their doom came. Thranduil's sword flashed as he cut down orcs. Behind him, his army trampled hundreds of orcs with their horses. Thranduil seemed to be everywhere. His sword was black with blood of orc but he cared not. He fought towards the Elven ranks until he saw his old friend Elrond.  
  
He leapt off his horse and greeted him. "You came back," said Elrond as he was swept up in a tight embrace as if they were long lost brothers.  
  
Thranduil nodded. "I was never gone. Talk another time. We got orcs to kill!"  
  
He lifted his sword high. "To me!" he shouted. "To me, all who would take the fight into orcish ranks!"  
  
Elrond immediately joined. Seeing two great rulers standing there, all the Elves rushed forward to stand behind them, swords drawn. "Well, oh mighty King, will you lead this charge or shall I?" teased Elrond.  
  
"We go together," he said with deep gratitude. Then, because he could not resist teasing him in kind, he added, "But do try to keep up."  
  
Elrond's laughter was lost in Thranduil's ringing battle cry. The Wood Elf warrior scrambled up the wall of fallen orcs and flung himself into the next wave of attackers. The creatures' fangs bared in fierce grins as they came at the Elven warriors with renewed vigor. Orcs enjoyed killing Elves in any number of ways, but few things were as satisfying to them as hand-to- hand combat.  
  
The nimble Elves darted and spun amid the churning melee, making several hits for every one the much-slower orcs managed to land. Thranduil was everywhere, his sword flashing as it turned aside the battle axes of his foe. And where he went, so did Elrond. He was not as skilled a fighter as he, being a healer, but the mind-and-soul rapport the friends shared enabled them to work together as smoothly as if they were tower-trained magi melded together in the casting of a single spell.  
  
But as the battle raged on and on, Thranduil began to wonder if this had been a wise strategy, after all. The Elven warriors were pinned between the dead orcs and the host of attackers. Fortunately, the orcs' own vast numbers seemed to work against them. So eager were they to engage their Elven foes that they al but clambered over the orcs in front of them to get at their preferred opponents. As often as not, their axes and swords bit into orcish flesh-either by accident, or in sheer impatience.  
  
Just when the tide of the battle was turning, Sauron emerged from his domain and his presence sent fear rippling among the ranks. Men and Elves died as they tried to get near him. One brave king of Men decided to charge him but was thrown hard against the mountain. His young son raced over to him but found him dead.  
  
Sauron's eyes now turned to the young Prince and advanced on the frightened man. Isildur reached for his father's sword but it splintered as Sauron crushed it into the rock. A dark gloved hand reached out to choke the precious life from him but he, in vain swept the broken shards of Narsil up. But chance, the sword cut the golden ring from Sauron's finger.  
  
The treacherous foe writhed and the very ground shook. Sauron tried to cling on to his life but the Ring was gone. His very essence was gone. With a blinding flash, he disappeared and the armies of Mordor collapsed. A burst of energy was released and all that had been done by the Ring's power passed away, but not forever.  
  
Elrond and Thranduil pushed their way through crowds of cheering Men until they reached the young Prince. "Come," said Elrond. "It is not over yet."  
  
Young Isildur clutched on to the Enemy's Ring. "What more is there?"  
  
"You must destroy it, Isildur," commanded Thranduil. "This is the chance to end all evil."  
  
The two regal Elves led the Prince up the slopes of Mt. Doom and ordered him to cast it into the fires from whence it came. Thranduil felt voices in his head. The Ring was calling to him and Sauron wanted him back but he forced them all away. "Cast it into the fires!" yelled Thranduil over the roar of fire.  
  
But a strange light came to the young Prince's eyes and he turned from the bridge. "No," he said softly. And walked away, cursing himself, all Men, his linage, and Thranduil.  
  
"Isildur!" yelled Elrond. But he could do nothing.  
  
Thranduil felt a pulse from the fires. He felt his master's calling and his presence but he gave little thought to it. It was time for Legolas Thranduilion to be born and share the fate of his father. 


	2. Dreaming Awake

Disclaimer: Once upon a time, Tolkien wrote Lord of the Rings. Am I Tolkien? Noooo!  
  
Author's Note: Ok, for those who are sorta lost on the curse, it works like this: The person who is cursed, Legolas, wants to go back to Sauron. It will make him want to return to his 'master' and will it torture him until he either gives in or end his own life. Very nasty business. Anyways, read on!  
  
Twilight of the Elves  
  
Dreaming Awake  
  
He could see it so clearly. A blazing red eye, wreathed in flames, searching in vain for his precious. The one who was bound it him and would always belong to him. The light fell on him, searching through his very soul. 'I see you,' whispered a voice in his head. 'Come back to me. You cannot hide forever.'  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Legolas sat up in his bed, dripping with cold sweat. His clear azure eyes searched the room with a frantic sweep and finally fell on the slim form beside him. He allowed a small smile to grace his features as they fell upon the sleeping Haldir. His breathing slowed as he regained control of himself. Lately, he's been plagued by those nightmares everyday, each one more real then the other. Even when he was awake, he felt as it someone was watching him and an invisible force was at pulling him. He had caught himself staring aimlessly into the east many times towards the Dark Lands.  
  
He ran a hand through his silken strands, trying to clear his thoughts and fell back into Haldir's warm embrace. Smiling, he inhaled his lover's scent, sweet and piney like the Golden Woods he protected. The slight movement awoke the handsome Guardian. His long lashes parted revealing dark stormy eyes. They fell on the golden Elf who was grinning impishly in front of him. "What?" he asked confused.  
  
"Nothing," replied Legolas in his enchanting voice. He flashed a mysterious grin at the taller Elf before leaping gracefully out of the bed towards the bathroom.  
  
"Legolas," pleaded Haldir pitifully.  
  
Hearing the weakness in his voice, he returned. Legolas grinned and brushed his lips gently across the Guardian's flawless features. "See you at breakfast."  
  
"Alright," he replied reluctantly. He could see that something wasn't right. The clear blue eyes that he loved so much were clouded and dull. He pushed that thought aside and melted beneath those perfect lips.  
  
He gently slipped himself away from Haldir and locked himself up in the bathroom. The impish smile that he had earlier was just a mask for show. It slipped away like a curtain, revealing the troubled Prince. If Haldir ever found out that he was bound to Sauron, he was sure that the Guardian will reject him. Legolas already knew that he could not live without Haldir. He was the only thing that kept him sane when the curse plagued him day and night, offering no peace.  
  
Earlier, when he kissed Haldir, instead of seeing his lover, he saw Him. Haldir's face changed into Sauron. The golden hair turned pitch black and the stormy eyes burned red. The pale Elven complexion turned dark and filthy. He shuddered as he recalled the eyes, the burning red eyes wreathed in flames just like his dreams.  
  
Legolas gazed into the mirror, at the regal Prince staring back at him. The image was perfect for Legolas was flawless. He was perfection. The golden hair fell about his shoulders like molten gold. The bright azure eyes shone brighter than the stars like sapphires. He knew, without being vain, that he was perfection. But beneath it all, he knew he was nothing but a lie. He was not the pure Elf that everyone thought he was. He was cursed, with the fires of Sauron burning within him. It burned brighter with each passing day, drawing him closer to him. He felt dirty, tainted, and covered with some invisible filth that would never come off.  
  
A sharp rap on the door made him tear his eyes away from the hated reflection. "Are you done yet?"  
  
"Yes, yes I'm coming." Slipping on his mask, he opened the door, ready to live another day as a lie.  
  
Strong arms encircled his waist as he stepped out into his bedchamber. He felt Haldir bury his head within his golden locks. This time, he truly smiled. His heart filled with love for the Guardian. "What troubles you, Melamin?" muttered Haldir into his golden mane.  
  
Legolas froze for a second. His mind unwilling to register what he just heard. How could Haldir know? He can't know about it! "What do you mean?" he asked trying to sound nonchalant.  
  
Haldir pulled away, his eyes locking onto the startling blue. "Don't lie. I know something is wrong," he said. "I care for you, Legolas. Tell me if something is amiss. I can help."  
  
Legolas knew that Haldir cared for him but he couldn't bring himself to tell him. "Do you trust me?"  
  
"Of course!"  
  
"Then trust me," he said, avoiding the piercing gaze of the Guardian. "You wouldn't want to know."  
  
He brushed past the Guardian and out the door, his heart pounding painfully. He could feel the accusing eyes boring into his back as he left towards the Great Hall. The servants bowed down to him from both sides as he approached the banquet table. Thranduil, his father, sat at the very end and beamed proudly at his only son but Legolas could not help but notice there was a trace of sadness within those stormy depth.  
  
He took his usual seat, next to his father. "What news, Ada?"  
  
Thranduil gestured gracefully to a man sitting beside him. "Legolas, this is Boromir of Gondor." Legolas inclined his head towards the Man. "He will be staying with us for a while so I suggest you make him feel at ease."  
  
"Yes, Ada," he answered. His clear eyes fixed on the man. He was a tall and broad in the shoulders. Brownish hair fell down to his shoulders. "What news of Gondor?"  
  
The hooded eyes bored into Legolas with such intensity, it almost made him feel like he was the intruder. "My father sent me here because he heard you had dealings with Sauron's forces before. Is that true?"  
  
Legolas got nervous at the sound of Sauron's name but replied just the same. "Yes, we once fought with him but that was the past. We are now friends of all those who oppose him."  
  
"Gondor is weak. Sauron's forces are attacking our borders more frequently than ever now. Since Mirkwood once sided with them, surely they know how their forces move. We need to know the ways of the enemy. That's why I have come."  
  
"We know nothing about the Enemy, Boromir of Gondor. That was the past. After almost three thousand years, surely they would've changed." Legolas turned to his father. "May I take my leave?"  
  
After a nod from his Ada, he stood up and bowed once more to the visitor. He turned and strolled out the hall. Behind him, Boromir gazed into his back. A strange gleam came into his eyes as he watched the perfect Elf walk gracefully away. He unconsciously wetted his lips and turned towards the King. "I will go too."  
  
Boromir slid out of the chair and silently followed the lovely Elf down the hallways, into his bedchamber.  
  
Author's Note: Blah blah blah REVIEW!!! 


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